Page 98 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

At the brief, intimate gesture, Justin went still. She heard his intake of breath, felt his hand tighten reflexively on her corseted waist. Her smile faded along with his.

I’m falling in love with you.

She didn’t say it. She couldn’t. It would ruin everything.

But the feeling burned within her nonetheless. A bright, radiant flame that she was sure must be shining in the depths of her eyes, revealing all to him.

I like you. I care for you. I’m falling in love with you.

“My turn,” Mr. Finchley called out. “Though I won’t promise to be as daring as Thornhill with all those swoops and spins.”

Helena swiftly dropped her hand from Justin’s face. He stepped away from her with equal swiftness. But he didn’t relinquish her to Mr. Finchley.

“No more dancing.” His voice sounded strange to her ears. It was deeper, and somewhat uneven. “We’re all overheated. Let’s go to Gunter’s for an ice.”

Helena felt flustered and more than a little foolish, but she schooled her features. “Oh yes,” she agreed. “That sounds marvelous.”

“I’m not sure Gunter’s is still serving ices at this time of day,” Mr. Finchley said. “Then again, I don’t suppose it would hurt to drive over to Berkeley Square and find out.”

“All of us?” Jenny asked, rising from behind the piano.

“Indeed,” Justin replied. “I’ll see about summoning a carriage.”

And with that, he strode purposefully from the room.

There was no time before Lady Wardlow’s ball to have a new gown made. Instead, Helena was obliged to settle for wearing one of her ball gowns from the previous season, albeit with significant alterations. Jenny and Mrs. Jarrow spent two straight days sewing and Helena herself helped to stitch new trimmings onto the hem.

The end result was a breathtaking creation of white silk with a plaited bodice and a double skirt, looped up by a cordon of fresh flowers and foliage. The deep V-neckline was set low across her shoulders, the short sleeves ending just above the line of her elbow-length gloves. She paired the whole with a painted fan, embroidered silk dancing slippers, and a wreath of flowers in her upswept hair.

Justin had complimented her when she came downstairs at Half Moon Street, but just as in the preceding days, his silence spoke more than his words.

The editorial had still not been published.

Was that what was inspiring his disquiet? Helena couldn’t tell. All she knew was that the growing intimacy between them appeared to have come to a screeching halt. Often, she felt him looking at her, but when she attempted to return his gaze, his eyes slid away.

Had he heard something more about her uncle and Mr. Glyde? Something he was too afraid to tell her? Or was it simply that he’d grown tired of London? Tired of her?

“Have you changed your mind about the ball?” she asked during their drive to Lady Wardlow’s townhouse in Belgrave Square. They’d hired a carriage for the evening. It was more comfortable than a Hansom cab, Justin had said. But he didn’t look particularly comfortable seated across from her. He was staring out the window, his posture stiff and unyielding—like a soldier on the front lines of a battle.

“Justin,” she said.

He flicked her a distracted glance. “What’s that?”

“I asked if you’ve changed your mind about attending the ball. We can turn around if you wish.”

“After all the effort you’ve put in?” His gaze lingered over her ball gown for the barest moment. “I think not.”

Helena reflected that Justin had put in no little effort himself. He was clad in a black evening suit complete with a white satin waistcoat and black tails. His hair was pomaded into meticulous order, his hat and his gloves lying beside him on the carriage seat. He looked starkly handsome in a severe, soldierly sort of way.

“I don’t care about any of that,” she said. “If you don’t want to go—”

“I’m not objecting.”

She pressed her lips together. Was it his burns? Was he tired of people staring at him and asking questions about India? Not that there had been many. Thus far, most of their outings had been limited to evening entertainments—darkened theatres and the like. To be sure, there had been one or two gawkers during their daytime walks in the park, but nothing too untoward. Indeed, Justin had never seemed to mind it overmuch.

The carriage rattled along over the street, the jingle of the harness breaking the silence between them.

“I daresay you’ll be glad to be rid of me for the evening,” Helena said.